Interesting.That reaction was new. Olivia was not a woman easily flustered, especially not by him.
He rose and stepped towards her, then bent low and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I will return, myKicksy-Wicksy.”
She made a face. “I would prefer if you called me something else.”
He smirked, keeping close. “I could call you ‘my dear.’ It would be perfectly proper, considering we are married, after all.”
Her lips curved into a small but genuine smile. “I would like that.”
“Good,” he murmured. “Then it is settled.”
He lingered for a moment too long, committing to memory the gold flecks in her blue eyes, the slight tremble in her breath. Something was shifting between them—and for once, it felt like it might be in his favor.
But Olivia, ever composed, gently broke the moment. “You should go. Lord Harwood is waiting.”
He groaned. “Let him wait.”
She tilted her head in mock reprimand. “That is rather rude. He came all this way to see you.”
Evander sighed and straightened, tugging down the hem of his waistcoat. “Very well. But that is only because yourequested it, not him.”
The smile she gave him then was the one he had been waiting for—warm and real. “I will be waiting for your return.”
He returned her smile with a nod and turned on his heel, his thoughts still lingering on her unfinished words as he made his way to the drawing room. Whatever Harwood had to say had best be worth the interruption.
He found the man standing near the hearth, already pacing.
Harwood’s eyes lit with urgency the moment he entered. “I’m sorry to disturb you so early, but I’m afraid it couldn’t wait.”
Evander folded his arms. “What is it that you need?”
“I intend to sell my indigo plantation,” Harwood began. “And I’ve found a buyer—on the condition that your land is included in the deal.”
Evander’s brows lifted. “Who is this buyer?”
“I don’t know his full intentions. He claims to represent a company, Walter Textiles, which is looking to expand its holdings in India. Gave the nameMr. Robert Taylor.”
That name landed uneasily in Evander’s mind.
“I’ll pay you one hundred and ten percent of what you paid for your land,” Harwood added, his tone clipped.
Evander strode to the drink cart, unease curling in his gut. “Why wouldn’t I just deal with Mr. Taylor directly?”
“You could,” Harwood allowed, “but has he approached you?”
Evander took his time uncorking the decanter. “Would you care for a drink?”
“Not at this time,” Harwood said impatiently. “This is a good deal. You should take it.”
Evander poured himself a measure of brandy, slowly. “We both know the land is worth far more.”
“Which is why I’m offering ten percent more.”
Glass in hand, Evander turned back to him. “What is he offering you?”
Harwood shifted in his stance, clearly uncomfortable. “That doesn’t matter.”
“But it does. To me.”
